


Lovely Vision

by thedezgyrl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Crossdressing, Gown, Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oneshot, Romance, gerita - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedezgyrl/pseuds/thedezgyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy decides to relax while Germany is on a business trip. Since he is not expecting Germany to be home for awhile, he decides to get comfortable in a gown. Everything is going fine for Italy - until - Germany comes home early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovely Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Another collab.

Men can't wear dresses they say. And why not? Because men do not have curves?

Italy begged to differ; he had curves! He had hips! And the nightdress seemed to gently highlight that fact. Besides, it was comfortable--and what was more important than comfort when you sleep? He didn't have an answer to that.

This was supposed to be Italy's little secret, really. Germany was on a business trip and wasn't supposed to be back for another two days, and so he figured, why not? At least he wouldn't have to worry about Germany not liking it. He'd taken it to Austria the day before, since he'd found it at a thrift store while shopping with Spain. There had been a few small tears in it, so he'd gotten it for free (which seemed to please Austria) and he'd sewn it back together for Italy. You couldn't even tell that there'd ever been a problem.

(Of course, Italy had left out the tiny fact that he intended on keeping the dress and not giving it to any of his female friends.)

(But Austria knew anyway. He just didn't say anything.)

With the money he'd saved from not having to buy or repair the gown, Italy had gone the full nine yards, buying thigh-high stockings--and panties too. Basically, he felt really, really sexy and it was a shame he didn't think Germany would like it since it wasn't "manly."

Not that Italy was really "manly" in any German sense of the term, but that's digression. 

Poor Italy shrieked and flew out of his skin when he heard the front door open and close, followed by Germany calling that he was home. As the Germans say--Scheiße! He fled for the bathroom, and there was a loud THUD! when he tripped over his own two feet and tumbled to the floor. He was back up in an instant though and bolted to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Not that it helped any--what was he suppose to do now?!

Italy thought he was going to die from embarrassment as he hid in the shower. Usually he was more than comfortable with the way he looked and dressed--especially around Germany, but it had been a long time since he'd gone all-out like this, and his husband was always telling him he should "man up."

The business trip had to do with helping historical preservation. Currently a sector in Germany wanted to demolish a portion of an area and to rebuild there. However Germany being the ever dutiful history buff, wanted it all to remain intact, and perhaps at the most touched up without destroying anything. 

Negotiations had concluded rather quickly. Mostly Germany had intimidated them in a cordial and rather gentlemanly sort of way. The nation was enigmatic like that. At least it got things done. Allowed Germany to get his way.

Germany had decided to take the two leftover days as personal time. He could certainly use the time to unwind and spend some on the much needed romance with Italy. They hadn't been alone in what seemed like ages. Before coming directly home - he had bought a bouquet of lily and cornflowers (their respective nation's flora), dinner from Italy's favorite restaurant, and a bottle of wine.

Upon entering their home Germany heard a cacophony of odd sounds. Almost like someone trying to flee. This set Germany on edge. He placed the items on the dining table except the bouquet. Just in case Italy was fine. Germany could surprise his boyfriend. Though he did take his handgun from its holster and walked through the house quietly.

When he saw the house was clear of a threat and the only door closed was their master bathroom, Germany knocked, "Italy? Is everything alright? I checked the house for an intruder..."

Italy had to fight to keep himself from outwardly expressing his panic. Epic fail.

"I-I'm fine! Just--just surprised, I mean.... What--what--when--why--how was the trip?" He said all this as he sat in the tub. At least he'd laugh about it later, hopefully.

"They conceded to my say on the matter. Really they had no choice." Germany tried opening the door and it was locked. Which made him raise an eyebrow. "Italy, let me in."

Oh no. Oh no, oh no. No no no. No.

Italy heard the click of the handle each time Germany had twisted it and the lock held. 

"I-I can't! I can't let--I--" His voice went from panicked to resigned after Germany asked him exactly WHY he couldn't. He must have sounded quite depressed when he next spoke: "I... I look silly. I mean, you--you weren't supposed to---so I--" He sniffled a few times.

Was Italy about to -- Or was he already crying? Germany could not tell which, but either way he was more than concerned. He needed to make sure that he was definitely okay. Especially after hearing him fall and the current situation at hand. 

"Italy please let me in. I would never laugh at you." There was a smile in his words. " Laugh with you yes, but never at you. I need to see that you are fine. Please."

There was a click to signal that Italy had unlocked the door, but he didn't open it. Instead, he stood there just to the side of the door and tried to brace himself for a potential negative reaction. He wore a sheepish, embarrassed smile.

He took a deep breath. "Okay. It's unlocked."

Germany held the door handle for a moment and he took a breath to steel himself. Also to allow Italy a moment to prepare himself for whatever he was eager to hide. Then he opened the door and saw Italy in a white gown. That was complete with stockings and the flush on Italy's face reminded him of a bride. Germany had no words for him. He was too busy thinking of Italy as a bride. Those thoughts moved to what he would look like on their wedding day. Germany's throat was dry and he clutched at the flowers in his hand.

Italy was beautiful.

"Feliciano...." Germany breathed out. Not knowing what he should say or how he should say it. He knew he had to say something or Italy would be thinking something upsetting about his appearance. "Can you follow me to our room...."

Italy nodded, not quite sure what to think. Had Germany brought him flowers? He thought he'd seen cornflowers and lilies, but Germany had turned around to walk to the bedroom. Italy followed behind.

What an odd combination! He found himself wondering why Germany might have chosen those flowers specifically, since the blond wasn't the type to just pick flowers at random. The two were so different. Lilies were bright flowers with lengthy petals that reminded Italy of broad brush strokes of an artist; the flower seemed purely white from a distance, but on closer inspection, yellow could easily be seen--and sometimes little speckles in the center. The lily did not hide any part of itself, but made everything it had to offer to its beholder known.

Cornflowers, on the other hand, tended to contain more depth in their colors. Small, seemingly sharp petals extended in layers in all directions. From a distance, they too could look a single color--usually a deep blue, but when you took the time to really see it up close, a world of blues and purples and reds made themselves known. Far away, they were plain. Up close, they held a depth in their beauty and layers that seemed unrivaled, and no two cornflowers were the same in their hues. 

Just like Germany--so it made sense that it was his country's national flower.

And that's when Italy--ever the airhead!--remembered that the lily was his own national flower. He felt so hilariously stupid, then, and completely forgot about his embarrassment of the dress because now there was something far more embarrassing to think about. He didn't say a word about it though.

Once they were in their room, he was snapped out of his thoughts. Germany had stopped walking and Italy bumped into him without thinking, and squeaked in surprise. As if he needed more proof that he was an airhead.

Germany stood there for a moment before making Italy sit on the bed and handed him the bouquet delicately. What felt like measured steps led him to his dresser and he popped out the false bottom. Italy never bothered with it. The hidden part of the drawer hid extra guns, knives, and ammo. There were also rolls of money for emergencies and other things for precautions. Italy referred to it as 'The Secret Squirrely Space'. Italy didn't like it because it held weapons. Which worked to Germany's advantage.

From the drawer he pulled out a little black box which he hid from Italy's view. Then he strode over and gracefully bent to one knee. Italy's eyes grew big with shock and it caused Germany to smile.

"I was going to do this on our relationship anniversary in a month, but seeing how beautiful you look right now...how exquisite." Germany saw a few tears escape Italy's eyes and he brushed them away with his thumb.

"Feliciano. I have known ever since we were children that I want to be by your side always. At first I thought as a means to protect you. Then you became my best friend and I don't know what I would do without you." Germany smiled in a tender way. 

"The night I made love to you before going to war when we were younger....I promised myself and somehow promised you to solidify the need to be with you always." Germany opened the box. "Feliciano, will you marry me?"

Italy was sobbing with delight. Sobbing. And nodding. And sobbing. And nodding some more. 

"Oh God, Germany... Yes... Ja... Sì... However I have to say it, I'll say it in all of the ways. if I must."

He continued to weep as Germany took his hand and placed the ring on his finger. 

"I've been waiting--I've always--I wanted--For so long--I should have worn a dress years ago!" He joked as he threw his arms around his boyfriend's--no--his fiance's neck. He kissed his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his lips, his whole face, over and over.

"I didn't think you'd like the dress because... Well, I'm a man and... so... But it's so comfortable... And God I love you so much, Germany--so much. So--mmph!" His giggles were muffled by Germany's mouth as the blond claimed his lips for his own.

Italy was so happy. He had never been so happy, so whole, never felt so loved, so wanted, so complete in all his life.

When their lips broke apart for air, Germany spoke to him softly, "Please don't ever be ashamed to be yourself. I love you. Every bit of you. Just the way you are." 

Then he picked Italy up and kissed him before setting him in the middle of the bed. Germany stood so he could undress himself and when he finished crawled between Italy's legs. From there he kissed along his jaw, down his neck, and to his shoulder. A hand slid along the silky clothed leg and touched even smoother panties. Germany made a pleased sound at finding them under his touch.

"I want you to leave the dress and stockings on..." Germany licked the shell of his fiance's ear and breathed hotly into it. "If that is okay..."

Italy's eyes squeezed shut and hands gripped Germany's shoulders as a shiver of arousal shot down his spine and throughout his body like electricity. He nodded his answer to Germany's request because if he opened his mouth, nothing coherent would come out so long as Germany was so close with that hot mouth of his.

He wasn't even able to verbally explain how happy he was (and how erotic it was) for his fiance to want him to keep wearing the nightdress.

A moan forced its way out as he felt Germany's hand playing with the silken panties he wore, hands so rough and strong and powerful toward the rest of the world that chose to to be soft and gentle and loving toward his--and only his own--body.

After a moment of playing with the panty line, he pulled them off teasingly slow, and then breathed in Italy's scent from them. Something he liked to do when Italy wore panties and his fiance never seemed to mind. Most times his pupils dilated with lust from watching the sniffing. Germany dropped them to the floor and he took the lube from the bedside table - pouring a generous amount in his hand. 

Germany slicked up Italy's cock and he pumped the hardened flesh several times. Twisting his hand around the pulsating erection, rubbing the head, and running his index finger along the slit. Germany eventually moving his hand down to start fingering Italy. All of his movements were tender and delicate towards his lover. Making love with every caress, stroke, and lingering touch.

Italy's back arched from each touch, each press, each grace of skin that Germany ministered. And though his mouth couldn't express more than gasps, pants, and wanting moans, his body told the blond all he needed to know; hips opened and legs parted to welcome him further while his cock dribbled out its own signs of pleasure; tight muscles gave in to let Germany inside in the most intimate way one could be; his hips rose and fell and moved forward and back in rhythm with the blond's motions; hands fled to his head, fingers ran through his hair and down his neck and shoulders and to the broad chest above them, then down further to hard, hot flesh to become sticky as they tried to give all that Germany could ever want or need.

Italy's mouth often fell silent for lack of breath, but his body screamed its exaltation.

When Germany felt that Italy was prepared enough for him, he kissed him passionately, and then proceeded to make his way inside. The sensation of tight heat was overwhelming around his throbbing cock. Italy was making so many frenzied sounds with each thrust, every angle his pistoning length took inside of him, and wherever his roughened hands groped at Italy's tender flesh. 

Even the German had a tough time keeping from being vocal. Italy bucking into every fluid motion, working together in sync, and their hips greeting each other with every roll. Germany loved the feel of the gown sliding between their bodies. He loved the way it made Italy look so demure, when at times like this, he was anything but.

In every way they could be at this time, they were embraced. Italy's legs were drawn up around Germany's hips while his arms were wrapped around his neck, his uneven breath brushing over the sweat of the German's jaw and into his ear. And every time he thought he was going to come (and his fiance would deliberately change pace to tease him and pull that release away), his whole body would suddenly tense and he would let out the most delicious whines and whimpers.

His body was at the mercy of his soon-to-be husband, and he loved it. It was just too good. He wanted more--so he drew his knees up further to open himself more until he was as full of he blond's cock as he could get. He forgot how to breathe again, and dug his nails into the flesh of the other's shoulders.

The feel of his skin being drawn taught underneath Italy's nails, burning sensation of blood meeting oxygen, and how every scratch was a badge of an honor. Germany would gladly wear every scar made in love as an honor. He already had some on his chest from Italy and when he saw them reflected in the mirror he would smile. Just then Italy's nails moved along his chiseled chest and roved over his hardened nipples. Germany gasped at the feel of their sharpness on the sensitive perked flesh. His fiance repeated the action and it caused Germany to groan.

Germany could feel the warmth inside Italy contracting and knowing that his love was close made his cock twitch with anticipation. He grasped Italy's hard flesh and started to rhythmically pump him to completion. Meanwhile he ruthlessly pounded into Italy's sweetest of spots. Listening as his whimpers became elated wails.

Italy forgot how to exist.

No, really. All he knew was love and pleasure and Germany and all of the rest of the world collapsed around them and exploded into nothing.

He was nearly sobbing from awesome combination of those three things when he came, and he made sure that Germany heard it--just as he felt it. He heard the blond grunting and groaning and that only made the experience better--the harsh, heavy, masculine breaths and groans echoed in his mind and he could think of little else to do but for one urge, one desire that he'd always had but never expressed...

Better late than never, as they say.

Italy bit.

His teeth sank into Germany's shoulder just short of drawing blood; there would definitely, *definitely* be a mark after all was said and done.

"Bite me harder." Germany growled from intense pleasure when Italy did so. He loved the thrill of the physical pain and the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. It placed him right on that beautiful edge and he couldn't wait to dive off of it. Plunging into Italy's depth. Another bite that was sharper than the other two caused him to spill inside Italy. The feeling saturated every particle of his existence. "Italy, I love you."

He crushed his lips to his, tasting blood, and relishing in the metallic flavor. Of his own blood in Italy's mouth. Which made him have a dry orgasm even after already climaxing and Italy gasped as he felt it.

"I love you too. I love you Germany." Italy repeated the words, but they were whispers because that was all the oxygen he could manage to use for speaking.

The white nightdress, surprisingly, managed to escape the situation with only small wet patches from sweat here and there. Otherwise, it was dry--and only because Germany had kept shoving it higher and higher up his body to see all of his soon-to-be wife. Italy--with his elbows bent and his hands resting near his head and his legs splayed open if only because he couldn't yet actually *move*--looked quite like the image of the virgin taken on her wedding night. His cheeks now were red not from embarrassment or shame, but from that blissful post-orgasm, thoroughly-ravished high.


End file.
